The Kingdom's Heartless
by RejectedByJustice
Summary: Everyone has a story. Even monsters. In this series of vignettes, explore the original Kingdom Hearts through new eyes, the eyes of the Heartless.
1. The Shadow Inside

The Kingdom's Heartless

The Shadow Inside

The Realm of Darkness is not an unpleasant place for those native to it. They are adjusted to the darkness and are put at ease. For them it is a place of warmth and comfort not unlike a womb. Like a womb though, many of them will be removed from it given enough time.

That's how it was for me.

I had no intention of leaving my realm. I seldom intend to do much of anything, especially at that time. To be a true Heartless is to feel an aversion to the light and very little else. The Realm of Light would have no place for me in it. I knew this and kept my distance.

Where I went though was not the Realm of Light, at least not directly.

Nothing in these worlds is every truly created or destroyed. It all comes from somewhere, and it all goes somewhere. When darkness accumulates in one's heart, it is from my home that they subconsciously draw that darkness. They gather it, for purposes they do not understand, and with it they gather us.

And that is the reason I had the misfortune of being drawn into the heart of a child so ready to fall.

By the time I arrived, the darkness was so great I could scarcely tell I had left my home. I felt pain and fear and longing, and I drew from that courage and strength. There were Shadows there, as there are in any place of darkness. I was by far the greatest of them. They were subservient to me, as is our way, and made room for my occupancy.

Being surrounded by my lesser and delicious suffering made my stay tolerable for a time, but as I realized the shape and scope of my cage I attained an uncontrollable desire to understand it. So ventured free of the Shadows, out from the deepest recesses of the boy's torment and sorrow. I reached a neutral space first. It was of memories and will, intent and ego. None of this meant anything to me. I continued my trek.

What I found left me nearly destroyed.

Light! Unbearable, powerful light! Had it been sapient or physical in itself, I might call it my equal or superior. But it was neither of these things. It was liquid and ethereal, mighty like a river and expanding like a supernova. This radiance beat me down and cut deeply into my core. I made a hasty retreat, but not before noticing there was something within the light. I could not see the thing clearly, but it took notice of me. It watched me flee, and made an utterance that may have been rooted in amusement.

From the neutral zone I examined this new territory. A heart that could contain such darkness and such light must be large indeed, and powerful. I knew little of the denizens of light, but I had felt hearts before. None had been like this.

Should I have escaped the heart, maybe I could have gained a better understanding of it from the outside. (Before striking its bearer down and claiming the heart for darkness, naturally.) But this option was not presented for me. I glanced wearily toward the light, knowing it could be the source of my destruction. The safe choice would be to return to the dark, where none could harm me.

But what then? Wait in silence surrounded by mere Shadows till the heart fell to the dark or was purged entirely, neither by my hand? This would not do. For none other reason save to sate my own curiosity, I rooted myself in the neutral zone and began to shift through the occupant's memories and experiences, into his soul.

The boy was an island dweller on some peripheral world devoid of significance. The boy was strong, a fighter. He had friends too, surely the source of this radiant light within him. One in particular troubled me. A girl. A girl so shrouded in the light, her simple presence made me feel weaker. Not only that, it caused the light to surge out. So often her interactions with my bearer resulted in my dark surface being scorched by the embers of his heart.

There was hope though. Another boy. Like my bearer, this lad had some power within him. Light? Darkness? I couldn't hazard to guess. What I could tell from reactions in the light that my bearer loved him in a certain way, but it was an entirely different connection from what he had with the girl. This other boy's strength and prowess fed into the vessel's fear and anger. Every time they came into contact, there was a surge in the darkness. Their relationship preserved my strength also. Without this boy and the emotional turmoil he offered, I surely would have perished within that heart.

Whether I dwelled within that neutral space for months or years, I cannot say. I lost track of time watching the bearer live his life, crossing blades with his friend, being a part of his world, dreaming of escape. I saw it all. In all that time the boy's life on the outside changed not at all, but inside his heart it was a different story. The dark was growing. The neutral space between light and dark remained, but it was not as bright as it had been. Coils of solid black dread wrapped around chains of memories, tainting his perceptions of them. The Shadows became daring. They struck out against the light. When it struck back, many of my cohorts were destroyed, but there were always more.

Soon I knew the heart would cave; the boy would fall forever into darkness. This should have overjoyed me, but…. Perhaps my bearer was not the only one who had begun to change inside. In my time with him, I had started to feel things beyond hunger, aggression, and curiosity. I had a specific interest in this human's life. I liked watching him. I hoped for his future. Despite my nature, I did not want this child destroyed from within. I wanted him to continue.

This development is not something that has happened before to my knowledge. I cannot accurately explain why it occurred. I do know that overtime, the light and the girl both began to burn me less. I also wonder: If a denizen of the Realm of Darkness can dwell within the heart of a denizen of Light, might something find itself dwelling within me?

I was staring into his memories as I was wont to do one night, when I was approached. The being was shrouded in light, as bright or brighter than the girl outside. I sensed him standing behind me. I did not turn to look at him as I knew the mere sight might kill me still.

The figure spoke. "You've been here a while fella. Not as long as I have, but days and days. Why's that?"

I did not respond. I did not know how. It was my first conversation.

"I've met a lot of things like you. Like your little friends over there. But you aren't quite like the others, huh? You're a thinker, I can see that. You like thinking about this kid. And I know those eyes too. You're worried."

I tightened my fists around a memory and shook my head.

 **I do not wish for him to end.**

The figure laughed. "So you can talk. Anyway, I don't wish that either. This kid is… special. He helped me a long time ago. He saved me, and I think maybe he saved you too. But now he's the one who needs help. Ours."

I thought for a moment. Feelings sympathy for a dweller of light was one thing, saving him was another. The Heartless have no concept of treason. What we do have is a sense of the natural order. What I was being asked to do was completely unnatural.

But then again, I was no longer natural either.

I turned toward the figure, a hand shielding my face to lessen the effects of the light.

 **What would you have me do?**

The figure cast his gaze aside sheepishly and placed one hand on the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "Well, I'd have you die."

I hid in the darkness of his heart as my bearer began his dive within. It had been too long since I immersed myself in darkness and changed as I was, weak as I was, it felt good.

I was at one with the darkness and I saw all within it. I saw him as he chose his weapon. I saw him strike down my allies, the Shadows. He grew stronger with every step he took.

To the boy, it was just a strange and unpleasant dream. In truth though it was a necessary, emergency procedure. The figure explained it to me well. The boy was special, and what he was about to undergo he could not survive with a heart full of darkness. The figure brought him within his own darkness so as to purge his heart manually. Should all go well, I and all of my allies would soon be destroyed by the only friend I had ever known.

This did not mean that I would go easily. My kind are among the strongest of the Heartless, and we fight till the end. Weak as I was the boy would have a fighting chance. If it was I who stuck him down though, and I who dragged his heart back into my own realm, it would merely be as things had been meant to be. The figure had agreed to this also.

I felt him, weapon drawn, approaching my resting place. This was it. At least we'd meet face to face. I drew into myself to prepare.

 **The closer you get to the light… the greater your shadow becomes.**

 **But don't be afraid.**


	2. Captain of the Guard

The Kingdom's Heartless

Captain of the Guard

Altor was one of the few first generation citizens of Trasverse Town. That is to say, he was born there. Traverse Town is not a place for being born. It is a place for hiding. It is a place for those who are running. It is a place for survival.

These things made Altor all the more proud to be truly from there. "This world is the absolute BEST world. How could you say otherwise? Everyone here is an absolute survivor who overcame terrible odds, and look at how well they run the city. The whole place is beautiful, we have a well-functioning economy, and as anyone who's ever seen the gizmo shop can attest we have plenty of innovators here."

His classmates, most of whom were refugees from this place or that, did not appreciate his ramblings on the matter. "Of course you think Trasverse Town is great, you've never been anywhere else. There's so much more out there. If I could go home, I wouldn't miss it here at all."

Altor would come home from school sulking over how little his peers respected his ideas and values. Unfortunately, there would be no sympathetic ear at home for him either. Any time Altor discussed his woes from school, he could tell from the misty looks in his parents' eyes that they missed their home as much as his classmates did. The boy found this nostalgia perplexing. What could this Radiant Gardens have offered that wasn't present here as well? But he knew not to press.

Eventually Altor learned to keep his belief about the town's importance to himself, but that did not mean he moved past it. Isolated and hidden, it festered in his heart, along with his anger at the people who just wouldn't listen.

Over time the boy grew into a man. He inherited the boutique his father had run. Altor got enough business to get by, but over time he started losing many of his regular customers to an item shop that had opened in the first district. Shop after shop in district two closed down from poor sales, and Altor's shop would soon follow suite. He knew whose fault this was: the immigrants.

For weeks and weeks, new people from devastated worlds had been swept up to the city gates. This had always happened in Traverse Town, but never in recent memory with this frequency. These new people would arrive with no goods or currency, and often with no useful skills. The kind hearted but mislead people of the town would feed them then, out of nothing but the goodness of their hearts. These regular acts of charity, Altor was sure, were damaging the economy to the point where it was impossible for a man to make an honest living.

 _I wish I was a refugee,_ Altor once thought. _Perhaps then someone would care for my wellbeing rather than leave me to rot in this dilapidated little strip. For every new mouth they feed, those people are snatching food from the mouths of their children. They'll see soon enough…_

And like a Biblical plague, a scourge finally fell upon Trasverse Town to teach it it's wrongdoings. The Heartless came.

First they took the alleyway. Altor welcomed then. That place had always been occupied by prostitutes and junkies anyway, or so he'd been told. Better the city be rid of them.

Next the Heartless overtook district three. Altor had always found that district to be a beautiful neighborhood and it was a shame to see it sealed off, but he supposed it was an acceptable loss. It had become a den to both gaudy and non-industrious immigrants, two of his least favorite kinds. Altor just hoped the Heartless would leave the place be once they'd killed the lot off.

Then his own district was received. Altor locked down his shop, which had recently been foreclosed on, and waited for help to come. Outside he could hear the killing. People were running, screaming, crying for help. Some of them he knew were his friends. Others were filthy immigrants whose demise he had hoped to savor. Unfortunately, even this bit of enjoyment was stolen from the man. Through the walls of his home, Altor could not differentiate one person's screams from another's. All he truly heard was misery.

It was three days before he accepted that help would never come. His food stocks were dwindling and his hope was entirely gone. Altor shook with equal amounts of fear and rage as he considered his options.

"Of course this would happen," he muttered. "This is what happens when you let immigrants run your city. They leave men, _good men_ , to die like animals. I don't deserve to die like this. I belong here. I belong in this world! That's more than most can say.

"I'm not going to die here. I won't accept it."

Altor's store was very close to the doors to sector one. If he ran, he could make. That was, assuming there wasn't a Heartless right outside his doors, waiting. And assuming that the doors had not been sealed or blocked to protect the only remaining clear sector. And assuming the Heartless had not already taken that sector too, and Altor's entire world with it.

Doubts would get him nowhere now. Strength was what Altor needed. And he didn't get strength anywhere more directly than from his rage.

Reminding himself just what he would do to the ungrateful immigrants in this city should he survive, Altor unbarricaded the door. He steeled himself. He flung the door open. He ran.

There wasn't a Heartless in sight. It was a miracle! Perhaps they had all been killed by some patriot. Perhaps they had grown bored and left, assuming no one remained. Or maybe they knew when they had killed the last immigrant and left Altor alive out of respect. Whatever the reason, he accepted it and welcomed his new chance at life.

His pace slowed slightly.

It appeared.

Before he fully understood the situation, it was upon him. Altor saw the beast that did him in, right before it tore the heart from his chest. It had bright yellow eyes, dark flesh and armor like the knight Altor had always wished to be for his city.

Altor saw another thing before he perished. A young stranger in bizarre attire. The lad had spiky brown hair and gigantic shoes.

 _Another immigrant_ , Altor was certain. _This one too lazy to try and save a life right in front of him. Typical._

And then, Altor's heart succumbed to darkness.

The citizen of Trasverse Town had always expected peace to follow his grand exit from the play of life. The embrace of the cold, empty void was the most he could imagine having lived before in the greatest world to his imagination. The dark realm in which he sank played into his beliefs briefly, as the impenetrable darkness simulated true nothingness to his limited perceptions.

But the dark was not placid.

To Altor's alarm, he soon realized his still conscious heart was being swept away by an infernal tide. He could see nothing, but all around was the chattering of the damned souls accompanying him. He could only hope these were not the hearts of immigrants he had been lumped into.

This was not a journey without destination. As they went deeper into the recesses of blackness, Altor began to make out great sounds in the distance. They were industrial belches and crunchings, and the sound of the pained and angry crying out. The sounds were getting closer. This was where Altor was going.

Soon Altor and his imperceptible traveling companions were thrust within the terrible device. Briefly upon entering it, the man felt that he was now closer than he had been to the Realm of Light since his destruction, but much deeper into the darkness than he had yet been. He had little time to ponder this sensation though as the machine quickly went to work on his heart's fragile remains.

The light was scraped from the surface of his being. Every ounce of familial love, any compassion he had felt for friend or peer, and any doubt there had ever been in regards to his xenophobic zealotry was washed away. Altor made to cry out, to beg for his identity returned, but his body was long gone and he had no tongue with which to articulate. All that emerged from his essence was a raw, meaningless utterance of rage and terror.

At last the machine's work was ended, and what survived of Altor was pumped back into the midnight dominion. The survivals of this man were no longer anything that could be termed Altor. All that had been spared was a small ball of fear and remorse, shivering in the midst of a world it didn't belong in.

The creature did not like this world. There was another place, one from which it had stemmed, that was much greater. A safer and kinder place. It longed to return. But how?

The beast took a moment to recall. Oh yes. The town. The small town of refugees that must be protected from the outsiders. At all costs…

Quietly the thing drew upon these vague memories, coalescing the righteous anger and blind panic around its being like the armor it would have built around its town of origin.

Two great gauntlets took form to defend its frail body. Below it the beast constructed two terrible hammer-like legs to crush the already downtrodden. A visored helmet was set upon the creature's brow, hiding its true face and nature from any who might look upon it. And finally, upon the monstrosity's chest rested a sigil. It was with the sigil and all it represented that the guardian would cleanse and protect its home, in the ways only it saw fit. This was the guardian's symbol of resurrection.

His self-creation complete, the guardian finally saw fit to remerge in Transverse Town. The place was the same, but different from his prior experience. The armored beast that had ended his old life and its ilk called out to him now, and listened in turn. These monsters of retribution were his inferiors now, he realized, and would follow his commands. Like his tendrils they set about the town to defend it and begin his work anew.

The most jarring change for him though was his experience of the place. All at once the guardian once known as Altor realized that all the residents of Trasverse Town were immigrants. None belonged here and all had a hand in corrupting it. The only ones who truly belonged here were beings like him. Creatures of darkness. The creatures that had been _born_ here.

There was no other recourse. Trasverse Town would be purged. Its living residents would be purified into his kind and the entire place would succumb to the domain of the dark. He knew instinctively what the secret to this was. Somewhere in this place, there was a way into the world's heart. His mere presence proved that it was accessible. All he need do to implement his final plan was to find it, and strike true. Then his beautiful world would become a part of the true world, the soaked in darkness.

So his minions set out, and went about the world's cleansing. And lying just beneath the surface of the beautiful sector three, the guardian waited for the completion of his perfect world.


End file.
